


Small Hours

by Sed



Series: Revelation [7]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anthology, Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-01 20:56:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16291643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: A collection of short stories spanning the time betweenMadnessand the next arc of the series.





	1. World Weary

**Author's Note:**

> With the second arc of the series completed, the next jump of roughly 2 years will be covered by the three short stories in this mini anthology. Things are a little domestic here, but you'll probably want this breather before the next big fic.
> 
> These three stories are the only part of the series which will take place exclusively on Earth.
> 
> The updated timeline for the series can be found [here](http://sedesla.tumblr.com/post/133472686698/ive-created-a-basic-timeline-for-my-ds9-fic).
> 
> (I also wanted to leave a little note here, and I'll eventually delete it, but the last fic was written over a period of time that was extremely difficult for me due to complications with work and some events at home. If you stuck it out through that, thanks! I promise things will be a lot better for the rest of the series.)

Everywhere Damar looked, Earth was green. There were green spaces in the gaps between structures; the margins of the well-walked paths were lined with neatly trimmed shrubs and ornamental grasses; even his own home, shaded by the abundant leaves of two towering trees, was wrapped in climbing vines. All of it green. All of it so incessantly, obnoxiously _green_.

During his months on Bajor, while boarding at Moren Kael’s farm, Damar had thought he’d seen every shade of green that could possibly exist on a world. He had been under the impression that Bajor was a rare jewel, unparalleled in its beauty. Clearly that was not so. At least, not exclusively; not only was Earth carpeted in all those very same shades of verdant _splendor_ , but the damned planet seemed to have somehow invented a host of entirely new ones.

He had been on Earth for some seven months, having finally concluded his business on Cardassia Prime late the previous year, leaving the Union in the hands of Kren and, by some strange twist of fate, Garak. In those seven months the shifting seasons in his new home had barely given rise to any changes that he could detect, although the weather had grown marginally warmer. At the onset of the warmer period he had finally understood why Kira insisted that the location she’d chosen for their home was a suitable compromise between her needs and his. When he’d first arrived he had assumed she was just patronizing him.

Kira spent most of her days in Paris, tending to her duties on the Federation Council, or working in committees tasked with more specific objectives. It was a wonder, he thought, that anything was ever accomplished by the Federation or Starfleet; waiting for the approval of a body as large as the Council for any decision of more than negligible concern seemed pointlessly bureaucratic. The Federation had a president, but his power was highly limited compared to the leaders of the other empires in the quadrant. That much Damar had known, but it wasn’t until he sat and listened to Kira describe her work and the painstaking process by which every policy was set and every precedent upheld that he began to understand the endless complexity at the heart of the Federation. It was no wonder Bajor had taken a decade to join. It was almost a shame that his people had been at odds with the Federation for so long; no one was more adept at wielding red tape than Cardassians.

But with Kira gone for most of the day, Damar found himself bored more often than not. He had taken several long walks around the municipality surrounding his home, and learned all the streets, alleys, and paths that wound around the houses and places of interest. He had even (accidentally) encountered some of his neighbors, and dutifully introduced himself. They knew Kira, of course. Bajorans were typically social with their neighbors, and she was no exception. At first he’d expected a strong reaction when he explained that he was her husband, and in fact one or two had needed a moment to process the information, but no one had been truly shocked.

No one besides Miles O’Brien, anyway.

Damar could have kicked himself when he stumbled across the chief and his family enjoying a meal in a small park. The park, as it turned out, was adjacent not only to his and Kira’s home, but the O’Briens’, as well. Damar suspected that had been intentional. Kira would have known few people on Earth, and she had been friends with the chief and his wife for many years. Which was why explaining his marriage to Kira had been so incredibly awkward.

 

_“Damar?” he heard a familiar voice exclaim. “It can’t be… It is! What in the hell are you doing here on Earth?”_

_Damar spun around and faced the source of the question; he instantly recognized Miles O’Brien, Deep Space Nine’s former chief engineer. Something inside him deflated just a bit. “Chief O’Brien,” he acknowledged stiffly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”_

_“I could say the same about you. I’d heard you were on Cardassia.” He said it with an air of suspicion, and Damar couldn’t fault him for it. He would have been wary if he were in the chief’s place._

_Deciding the truth would be the path of least complication, Damar answered, “I live here now.”_

_“You live here?” The chief turned back to his wife, who was sitting on a blanket nearby, holding their younger child—a boy. The older girl was weaving flowers into a necklace not far away. “Here? On Earth?” he asked._

_“On Earth, and here.” Damar pointed to the ground beneath his own feet._

_O’Brien seemed stunned. “How did_ you _end up in Kumamoto?” he asked. “You know Kira’s here, don’t you?” It sounded like something of a warning. He couldn’t seem to decide between astonished amusement and indignation over Damar’s presumption to show up in the same city. “Wait ‘til she hears about this,” he almost laughed. “Wait, are you—”_

_“She’s my wife,” Damar said before he could think better of it, or even wonder whether it was something Kira wanted the chief and his family to know about. It was just that he’d said it so many times to his neighbors that he had almost forgotten there were still many people who would not take the news well._

_Chief O’Brien did not take the news well. “What in the bloody—you’ve got to be joking. You’re joking, aren’t you? You’re here on some sort of… diplomatic mission, and Julian put you up to this? Kira would never marry you.”_

_That was more insulting than Damar thought it should be; after all, he’d had the same thought himself on several occasions. He couldn’t help a frown, regardless. “What makes you think that?” he demanded._

_“Well, you’re a—” O’Brien faltered for a moment. “You’re you!” he finally declared, as though that explained everything._

_“Miles, why don’t you invite him to sit with us?” the chief’s wife called from the blanket. O’Brien turned around to look at her, and that was when Damar caught the deadly serious look she was giving her husband. It was completely at odds with the pleasant way she said, “We’d be delighted if you joined us,” to Damar._

_Both Damar and the chief gaped at her, and for a minute or two neither of them said anything. Then, for reasons Damar would struggle to understand for weeks to come, he accepted her offer. He walked right past the chief and sat down on the corner of the blue and white blanket._

_The chief followed shortly after that, albeit grudgingly, he thought. Damar quickly learned the names of Keiko, Molly, and—to his great surprise—Kirayoshi, who apparently went by Yoshi most times. Keiko insisted on sharing some of the food they had brought on their picnic, and Damar hesitantly accepted the generosity. While they ate he listened to the story of how Kira came to be a part of their family, which he had previously known nothing about, and in return he carefully explained_ some _of the story of how he and Kira had come to be together. Out of respect for everyone he skipped the unpleasant parts and the more private details he was sure Kira wouldn’t have wanted him to share. He also confirmed that they knew Kira had been appointed to the Federation Council, but not, apparently, that she was married, or to whom. Naturally she had also failed to mention that Damar would be joining her on Earth._

 _“I just can’t believe she married_ you _. No offense,” the chief added quickly when Keiko shot him another icy glare. “It’s just… well,” he said, gesturing helplessly._

_“Sometimes I have trouble with it myself,” Damar admitted. He hadn’t really thought much of what he was saying, only speaking the truth, but apparently it struck the right note with the O’Briens; Keiko and the chief burst into laughter, and they shared a look that Damar was only too familiar with from his own experiences with Kira. That silent, private understanding between two people who had been through their share of trials together. It was oddly heartening._

_“Actually,” he added, if only to change the subject, “Doctor Bashir recommended that I make contact with you once I arrived. He seemed to think that you would be..._ lost _without his friendship.”_

_“Did he?” the chief asked with a chuckle. “Julian’s the one who’s lost, if you ask me.” He smiled, no doubt remembering his friend back on the station. When he looked up again it seemed as though he had left behind some of his earlier suspicion. Damar wondered if the doctor’s endorsement had really been enough to ease O’Brien’s fears. He was unable to hide his surprise when the next words to come from the chief were, “But seeing as we’re neighbors now, and in light of the fact you’re with Kira, well, I suppose you ought to call me Miles.”_

 

Damar hadn’t realized at the time that he was making friends. Again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be friends with the chief, per se, it was just that he had learned to loathe the burdens that came with friendship. He’d had his fill of those during the war.

But as it turned out he actually enjoyed the chief’s—Miles’—company. There was a certain solace in spending time with such a like-minded individual. Miles didn’t want to be bothered by anything either. He simply wanted to enjoy his home, his family, and his many, _many_ projects. It seemed the chief had an entire workshop on one level of his home, which he eagerly shared with his new neighbor the first time they were left to their own devices. He told Damar that he liked to tinker. Damar was fascinated by most of what he had been shown, but he understood next to none of it in anything but the broadest strokes. Compared to the chief, his knowledge of engineering was... limited. He had a soldier’s general education on the subject, and that had served him fine so far.

Some three or four weeks after that first meeting in the park, during a quiet evening at home, Kira had explained to Damar what she knew of the chief’s history with Cardassians. It clarified a few things, certainly. That the chief was so quick to extend a friendly hand was surprising, in light of his history. Damar assumed Keiko and her stern glare had a hand in some of it, but Miles made the effort after that, and Damar was, strangely, grateful that he had. On the other hand, Kira only found their unlikely friendship confusing, if still convenient.

But despite the novelty of new friends, and all the treks through green-lined streets, shaded, manicured parks, and buildings that occasionally seemed in the process of being reclaimed by nature, Damar was still profoundly bored. He hesitated to tell Kira because he was certain she wouldn’t understand, but after weeks of aimlessness and growing certainty that he would come to resent Earth for his ennui, he finally gave in.

“There has to be something you can do,” she said. “Was there anything you did back on Cardassia that you could continue here?”

“My chances of being elected president are slim, and I doubt Starfleet would take me,” he answered dryly.

“You expect me to believe you don’t have any other skills?”

“I joined the military almost as soon as I was able; I don’t have many useful skills that aren’t related to my service.” He stopped and thought for a moment. “Or detente. And the latter I only learned by necessity. I was also never very good at it, if you recall.” He had taken a seat in an armchair, and he let his head rest in the palm of his hand while he waited for Kira to say something. After some time had passed he looked up again to find her frowning at him. “What?”

“I just… don’t know what to say,” she admitted with a shrug. “I suppose you’ll have to learn something new. Maybe you could take up knitting.”

He stared at her.

“Alright, not knitting, but something. Cooking?”

He gave her another sour look. “Do you really want to be subjected to that?”

“No, I really don’t,” she laughed. While Damar continued to scowl at her she cleared her throat and composed herself. “Alright, then you’re just going to have to give it some thought. Maybe we can ask Keiko and Miles for some suggestions.”

“Keiko and Miles?”

“They’ve invited us to dinner tonight.”

Damar let himself slump in the seat. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the meals they ate with the O’Briens—in fact, Keiko’s cooking had been his introduction to some very fascinating human dishes that he immediately programmed into their own replicator at home. It was just that he hated the thought of socializing when he felt so frustrated.

Kira seemed to sense this, and she came around the back of the chair to drape her arms over his shoulders. She stroked his chest through his shirt and nuzzled at the ridge of his ear. “You’ll have a good time,” she insisted. “You always do.”

“If you keep doing that, neither one of us will make it to dinner,” he warned her. He felt her answering smile, but she stood up, and withdrew all the wonderful warmth and soft touches that accompanied her. Damar let out a wistful sigh. He had almost hoped she would ignore him.

“Come on.” She patted his shoulder. “They’re expecting us in less than an hour.”

 

  
At dinner, Kira barely waited for everyone to take their seats around the table before she brought up the topic of his listlessness. It earned him a bemused look from Miles, and a pitying frown from Keiko. Keiko was also the first to speak up with a recommendation. “Why don’t you see if there’s anything you could do for Starfleet?” she suggested. “Maybe you could act in some sort of advisory role. I’m sure they would appreciate your insight on anything to do with relations with Cardassia.”

Damar searched for some way to reject her advice without insulting her at the same time, but while he struggled, Miles stepped in to save him. “He’s only just left Cardassia. I doubt he wants to go right back to that sort of thing.” He looked over at Damar. “Do you?”

“I think I would prefer something simpler,” Damar admitted, grateful for the help. “But thank you,” he said to Keiko.

They continued the roundtable regarding Damar’s professional options for some time after that, but eventually the conversation wound down, and they moved on to more interesting subjects. Kira explained a recent disagreement she’d had with a colleague regarding a committee decision on the security of the wormhole—of interest to everyone at the table, given their experience with the matter—but she was not at liberty to tell any of them what the outcome was. Miles bemoaned the wasted potential of his students, who he declared were lazy, unappreciative of their opportunities, and lacking imagination. Keiko reminded him that he had made the same complaints at the start of every new class, and by the end of the year he was convinced they would revolutionize the field of engineering. Meanwhile, Keiko herself seemed uninterested in discussing her own work, but she was keen to talk about their children. Molly, it seemed, had started to show an interest in field sports. Damar made the mistake of mentioning that he hadn’t seen a single human game since coming to Earth, and both Keiko and Miles insisted he accompany them to young Molly’s next match.

Eventually, and through no real effort on anyone’s part, the conversation circled back to Damar, and what he would do with his abundant free time.

“You know,” Keiko said, wiping the powdered remnants of dessert from her fingers, “you could always come to work with me. I could use an assistant. My last one left for Starfleet Academy a month ago, and I haven’t had time to interview for a replacement.”

Damar opened his mouth to answer, but the stark silence of both Miles and Kira across the table from him caught his eye, and he stopped. “What?” he asked them.

“It’s… nothing,” Miles lied. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I think I’ll get some coffee. Does anyone else want coffee?”

He tried to demand an explanation from Kira, but she had found something intensely interesting on the wall behind Damar’s head, and refused to look at him.

“Ignore them,” Keiko said. She waved a hand to dismiss the other two and their strange behavior. “What do you think? I’m serious if you’re interested. You can try it out for a few weeks and see if you like it.”

Still distracted, Damar didn’t think to ask any questions. He simply nodded, and as he glared defiantly at his wife, said, “I would like that very much, thank you.”

Whatever their game, he wasn’t going to be fooled by it.

 

  
“And this is the main nursery.” Keiko stood before him, one arm raised high to indicate the towering arch of the glass roof overhead. It let in the light, but filtered and diffused, so that it scattered amongst the sprouts and saplings lining the structure in neat rows. There were too many plants to count, and far more than he could hope to identify. Some had been trimmed to impossibly small, tight shapes, and others were encouraged to grow up and out, so full that their branches bowed back to the ground again. In the smaller soil beds that sat upon the countless low tables, seedlings flourished in the humidity. It was all so very… _green_.

Damar didn’t bother to hold back a sigh.

“Most days I’m out working in the gardens,” Keiko explained, oblivious to his dismay—or comfortable ignoring it. “We have some of the oldest on Earth here, did you know that? In the past they were built and tended by monks, nobles, businessmen, and local municipalities. Now they’re under the supervision of the Heritage Trust, along with most of the planet’s historic sites.”

Damar tried his best to pretend that he was interested. Keiko began to walk away, but continued to explain the history of the ornamental gardens and cultural sites in her care in great depth. Damar was forced to follow, and pretend that he didn’t want to be anywhere but trapped in that greenhouse. At least it was warm. He could have done without the excessive humidity, though.

“The rest of my team knows what they’re doing, but I’ll need you to keep records of the soil quality; note PH, determine bacterial cell health, catalogue the presence of any fungi—things like that. About once a week you’ll have to check for damage and prune any bad growth. I might also need you out in the field once in a while.”

“Is this field nearby?”

Keiko smiled and put a friendly hand on his arm. “Only an expression. Mostly it’s just more gardens and groves. Come with me, I’ll show you the tools you’ll be using.” She started toward an alcove in the corner of the structure, at the far end of which sat a rough wooden bench and a host of various objects. He was familiar with some of them, and others…

“How are you with pruning shears?” she asked.


	2. A Familiar Feeling

“We have Yoshi tonight.”

Damar set aside his reading—a text on phytochemistry that Keiko had loaned to him, which he did not understand in the slightest—and called back to her, “I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

“You didn’t.” Kira was in the bedroom, presumably changing out of the clothing she had worn to Paris earlier that day. He expected her to emerge wearing something more comfortable, more appropriate for the house. Instead she appeared wearing a long shirt and a pair of loose-fitting slacks. She looked ready to leave again.

“Going somewhere? Or is this part of the unspoken arrangement? You leave, and I’m left looking after the boy.”

Kira put her hands on her hips and frowned down at him. “We’re taking him to the park.”

Damar knew better than to just assume that meant something simple, like the small, perpetually-crowded park between their home and the O’Briens’. “ _Which_ park?” he asked suspiciously. Her flicker of a glance gave him his answer and more; wherever it was, it was not a simple walk down the lane. He crossed his arms and waited.

“I thought it would be nice to have dinner afterwards.” She was looking away, idly scratching the hair at the back of her head while she stared at nothing in any direction but his.

“ _Where?_ ” he asked again.

She hesitated, then said, “Sisko’s.”

“Kira! Must it be so far away?”

She turned back to him, her face pinched in an angry scowl. “It is fifteen whole minutes, Damar. And to answer your question, it’s because I thought it would be nice, and it’s been a while since we visited.” She held her arms up and shrugged defensively. “They have great food! And parks,” she added, “and it’s still very warm there.”

“We have food _here_. There are parks _here_. And—” he lifted his own arms, mimicking her pose, “it is warm _inside the house_.”

“It’s warm outside, too, you’re just a disagreeable—”

“Do not call me a lizard.”

The word died on her tongue, and she clamped her mouth shut. After a moment she asked, “Are you coming or not?”

“I take that to mean you will be going, whether it is with or without me.” It wasn’t posed as a question, but they both knew it was meant to be one. He didn’t want to be left behind any more than she wanted to go alone—although, he supposed a seven-year-old counted as a companion. Of sorts. He sighed. “Yes, I will go.”

Her smile could have reignited a star, and it had absolutely nothing to do with securing the pleasure of his company. He reached for the padd and began to read again, picking over the parts he’d already scanned and summarily dismissed as gibberish. Keiko had expectations of his informal education in botany that he did _not_ consider realistic. “Don’t gloat,” he muttered.

Kira headed back to the bedroom to finish getting ready, casually calling, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” along the way.

 

 

“Let me know if I can get you something else,” Joseph Sisko said on his way back to the kitchen. He ruffled Yoshi’s hair as he passed, making the boy giggle and reach up to grab at the elder Sisko’s much larger hand.

“I think this is more than enough, thank you,” Kira said. She was finishing up her meal, and Yoshi had devoured his moments after it was set in front of him. Damar was the only one still eating.

“This is nearly identical to a meal your son once prepared for me,” Damar told him when he returned to the table.

“It should be, I taught him everything he knows about cooking,” Joseph replied with a knowing wink. He paused, wagging a finger at Damar as he added, “Don’t believe him if he tells you anything different.”

Rather than explaining that a potent combination of fear and awe—tempered by a healthy amount of personal and professional dislike—made him feel obliged to believe nearly anything Benjamin Sisko told him, Damar simply nodded and returned to his meal. He was certain Kira was just waiting for him to put his utensils down so that she could explain whatever very valid reasons she had prepared to justify remaining longer in New Orleans.

It wasn’t that he had any particular reason not to want to explore Earth; as it had turned out (and as Kira had repeatedly insisted), most of the planet was quite lovely, and the inhabitants were as accommodating as he had been assured. No one seemed at all bothered by their unconventional relationship, and he had never even been asked why he, a Cardassian, was on Earth in the first place. In fact, Damar was almost certain that most of the people he encountered were completely unaware that they were speaking to a man who had once been their enemy.

Ever the optimist, Kira had insisted that if the people of Earth remembered him for anything, it would be for his rebellion against the Dominion, and his almost-sacrifice in the last charge on the Founder’s stronghold. Humans, she had explained, were more inclined to focus on the good deeds in one’s past, rather than the mistakes that may have led to their necessity. Damar was skeptical, but he trusted his wife’s judgment, and made an effort not to assume everyone he met would instantly hate him the moment they realized he wasn’t just _any_ Cardassian.

He also went out of his way to avoid any topic which might remind them, just in case.

“How about a walk before we head home?” Kira asked. She had taken the napkin from her lap and neatly folded it back on the table. Across from her, and next to to Damar, Yoshi was watching her closely as he did the same. When Kira moved her empty dishes to the side Yoshi did so as well. She drank from her glass and the boy mimed taking a sip from his own—empty—cup. He even sat up straighter when she did.

The scene they set was so charming that Damar found himself captivated by their silent play. At a certain point he realized that Kira was aware of what Yoshi was doing, and she had begun making deliberate movements for him to copy. It gripped something in Damar that threw off all of his previous reservations. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Where would you like to go?” he asked, having dismissed his desire to hurry home.

Home would be there when they were ready.

Kira smiled warmly and stroked the side of his hand with her thumb. “Let’s see what’s out there,” she answered.

They said their goodbyes to Joseph, and Kira shared an embrace with the elder Sisko before leaving. She took one of Yoshi’s small hands in hers as the three of them stepped out into the French Quarter. They had no specific destination in mind, which suited Damar just fine; he hadn’t yet learned the city well enough to have any real idea of where they might go. As he watched Kira swing her arm back and forth in time with Yoshi’s, Damar wondered if she insisted they visit New Orleans so often because she enjoyed it, or if she was just hoping he might take the hint and expand his own horizons. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, if that was her intention, she had a point. He had been on Earth for nearly a year, and the only location he could recall with any real clarity was where they lived.

As they walked along the lamplit streets it became apparent that there was some sort of arts festival taking place in the city. They meandered past the unevenly spaced stalls and rows upon rows of paintings, pottery, and other handcrafted goods, and Kira discussed each one with Yoshi as they caught the child’s eye. Privately Damar wondered if the boy was perhaps a bit too young to truly grasp something like the abstract value of art, but then again he didn’t know much about human children, or what they could and couldn’t comprehend at that age. He certainly wouldn’t have given any thought to such trivial distractions himself at only seven years old, no matter how colorful and chaotic it was, but then expectations were different among his people.

Damar stopped to wait while Kira led Yoshi over to examine a small group of holophotos, all depicting different sunsets and sunrises. He watched them crouch together to admire the beautiful images, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as he stood beneath the light of a street lamp. There was something particular about that moment, about the two of them huddled together like the most innocent conspirators, picking out which of the scenes they liked the best. It tugged at a part of Damar he had long ago shut away. A part of himself that he could not dare to open up again, if only because he knew there was no place for it in the life he had chosen.

He cleared his throat. “It’s getting late,” he announced.

Kira stood up, taking Yoshi’s hand again. The man behind the nearby table was smiling and nodding at the two as they selected one of the holophotos to take with them. Kira thanked him, encouraged Yoshi to thank him as well, and then together they made their way back over to Damar.

“Look at this!” Yoshi implored, holding up the picture for Damar to see. It was a sunrise, the sky bathed in ripples of pink and gold against a horizon of trees, whose black branches reached up into the wash of color like black, jagged spires. It was familiar and comforting—and belonged in the past.

“That’s very beautiful,” he said. He took the picture from Yoshi’s small hands and pretended to examine it more closely. “You picked this out yourself?”

Yoshi nodded emphatically, and then lifted his arms to retrieve his new favorite object. Damar gave it back to him, only to have Kira hold out a hand to take it from the boy. “I’ll carry that for you,” she said. “Okay?”

It was handed over without any argument, and she tucked it into the bag slung across her shoulder. Yoshi wiggled his hand back into hers, and together they resumed their leisurely stroll.

“At the end of the block we can go left, and that will take us back to the transport hub,” Kira said.

Damar only nodded. He was lost in thought, but Kira and Yoshi were deep in discussion about different types of art, her own mother work as an icon painter, and how much value Bajorans placed on the unpredictable beauty of nature. The last was a subject that Yoshi seemed to find particularly fascinating, Damar assumed because it directly related to his own mother’s work. If he knew anything about the boy, it was that he truly adored his mother.

Soon enough they arrived at the hub, and in short order they were back in Kumamoto. Yoshi had fallen asleep by then. Given that he had spent much of the time before dinner tearing through Armstrong Park at top speed, that was hardly surprising. Kira had offered to carry him, but ultimately it was Damar who picked the boy up and hefted him up against one shoulder. He’d caught a sly smile from Kira out of the corner of his eye when he did.

“I’ll get him set up in the spare room,” she said as they made their way up the short stone path to the front door. “Miles and Keiko left some things for him to wear.”

“Why don’t you take care of that. I can barely manage my own clothing under the best circumstances, there’s no telling what the end result would be if you left me to dress him.”

Kira laughed at that, and with a shake of her head she let Damar transfer Yoshi over to her arms. He was big for his age, but she seemed to have no trouble carrying him over to the couch once they were inside. His little arms flopped around uselessly when she set him down on the cushion to retrieve the overnight bag.

Damar let himself linger in the doorway to the hall for just a few moments. He watched Kira arrange Yoshi comfortably before she went about searching through the bag for the boy’s things. When he finally pulled himself away it was with a quiet, wistful sigh.

He had never taken the time to get to know his own son. For most of the child’s tragically short life, Damar had been at the forefront of a war; bound by duty and the shackles of his Dominion masters as they sought to cleanse the Alpha Quadrant of the Federation. At least there his mistakes had been the same as so many men whose lives were promised to the military, and for that much he could attempt to forgive himself. But even during the times when he had been back home on Cardassia Prime, overseeing the war from deep within familiar territory, he had never truly made time for his wife and son. He had never bothered to connect with either of them in the way he knew he should have. It wasn’t until they were taken from him that he realized what he’d actually lost.

It was painful to remember them, and so Damar did his best not to. He might not have known them as he should have—not as well as he knew Kira, or even the O’Briens, now—but he still felt the pain of their loss, and the loss of a privilege he had never truly appreciated.

Damar had been pulling down the blankets while he mulled over his mistakes, and he was surprised to turn and find Kira standing in the doorway, Yoshi in one arm and a small, plush targ in the other. The boy was still asleep, draped across her shoulder like a sack of grain.

“All done?” she asked.

He nodded and stepped back, lifting the blanket up so that Kira could lay Yoshi in the bed. There was a moment of inarticulate muttering and shifting as Yoshi snuggled down into the pillows like a restless, squirming pup, and then he settled back into a deep sleep. Damar tucked the targ into his little arms and pulled the blanket around him, all the while fighting to ignore the ache in his heart.

He had missed all of this. He had missed it, and he would never have a second chance. It simply wasn’t for him to have, and he knew that—he knew Kira would never even consider it. Not that he would dare to ask; after all the hardship she had endured with her own family, all the disappointment and confusion that had been thrust upon her, asking for more was unthinkable. He had been a selfish man in his life, but he knew better than to scratch at that wound. What he and Kira had together was already more than he could have hoped for. It was far more than he deserved.

“You okay?” Kira asked, her voice barely a whisper at his side. She was looking at him with worry in her eyes. If only she knew.

Damar quietly cleared his throat before nodding. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Kira had noticed something was wrong, but all the same he felt ashamed for being too careless to hide it better. “Just tired,” he lied.

Kira watched him for a few seconds longer, frowning the way she did when she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth. Fortunately for him she seemed willing to let the matter rest. “Let’s let him sleep,” she said.

They returned to the main room, where most of the contents of the overnight bag were tossed haphazardly across the couch and the nearby table. “Have some trouble?” he asked.

“A bit,” she said. “There was a _lot_ of stuff in that bag.”

They cleaned the room together, and when it was back in order they joined one another on the couch. Damar sat in the corner, his arm up over the back to invite her into his space. Kira gladly accepted the unspoken offer. She leaned into him, her feet tucked behind her on the cushion. They sat in companionable silence that way, letting the ease of the evening wash over them and simply enjoying the mutual warmth and company, and the comfort of hard-earned familiarity. Damar brushed a hand over her shoulder, and Kira reached out to gently squeeze his knee in return. For a moment Damar was almost able to forget that he had been tormenting himself since New Orleans

But that simply wasn’t meant to be. “Do you ever think about your family?” she asked, abruptly shattering the silence.

It was far from a tactful delivery, although that was Kira’s way; Damar knew it wasn’t intended to cause him any pain. She wouldn’t have brought it up if she’d thought it might have been on his mind already. He shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t currently leaning against. “Sometimes,” he hedged. The right answer could bring a swift end to the subject. He would have preferred that, though he was under no illusions that he could achieve it.

“Do you miss it?” she pressed.

He was sure she could feel him tense up at the question. He wondered if she had any idea why. The logical assumption would be that the subject had struck a nerve. That was far better than the truth—for both of them. “Miss what?” he asked, still intent on deflecting the actual issue.

Of course that was when Kira decided to be direct. “Miss being a father,” she said.

It was that word that tugged at him in all the worst ways, unravelling all the layers he had wound so tightly around his heart. Damar took a deep, shuddering breath, and rested his face in the palm of his free hand, propped up at the elbow on the armrest beside him. With a defeated sigh he said, “I wasn’t much of a father.”

Kira was quiet for a time. If she was thinking about what he’d said she showed no outward sign of it. Finally she asked, “But if you could do it again—”

Damar cut her off before she could finish. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

She sat up, twisting on the couch to look at him. “Why not?”

He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “Because I _can’t_ ,” he said.

“No, I—” She shook her head. “I don’t mean going over what you could have done differently, I just—actually, you know what, forget I said anything,” she huffed, turning away again. He couldn’t tell if she was angry with him, or herself. He wasn’t about to ask, either.

The silence that had been so pleasant before returned then with all of the same stillness and depth, but none of the comfort. They each stared ahead at nothing. Several times Damar thought of simply getting up and announcing that he was going to bed. It might have been the safest route to take, given the dangerous nature of the topic. Kira’s family history was riddled with pitfalls, most of which had been dug by a man Damar himself had once looked up to and, much to his eternal shame, attempted to emulate. A man who made the very topic they were barely discussing a veritable minefield. He wasn’t foolish enough to risk stepping on such uncertain ground.

It seemed as though an eternity passed in that uncomfortable tableau. Damar’s fingers twitched against the soft fabric of the couch. He wanted to get up and leave.

Then, without any sort of warning or preamble, Kira asked, “Do you ever think you might want to be a father again?”

That was… not where he had expected the conversation to lead. He knew he was staring at her, and that she wouldn’t wait forever for his answer, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to speak. Already there was something uncertain at the edges of her eyes, and suddenly the metaphor of the minefield seemed so much more real and terrifying. She would know if he lied, he was certain of that much, but honesty presented equally unappealing consequences.

“Damar?” she prompted. “I asked if—”

“Of course I do,” he hissed, looking away uncomfortably. When he realized how harsh his reply had been, he swiftly added, “I’m a Cardassian.”

Her answering scoff wasn’t enough to temper his unease, but it did a decent job of burying it beneath a wave of indignity. “That amuses you?” he asked.

“Honestly? Yeah, it does. It’s a bad answer. I want to know what _you_ think.” Kira lifted herself up onto her knees and leaned in front of him, effectively cornering him against the couch. “And I want to know what _you_ want. If this—” She stopped and took a steadying breath. “If this is actually something you want. Because if it is...”

Damar finally found the courage to focus on her face, and on the unexpected warmth he found there. He allowed himself a second to hope that she was serious. “Is that what _you_ want?” he asked, barely more than a whisper.

Kira slumped back down onto her heels and shrugged halfheartedly. “I think I do. It’s just that—I _was_ a mother, Damar. For a brief time, anyway. And yes, I can see Yoshi whenever I want, but he isn’t mine, and he never was. I wonder sometimes what it would be like if—”

He couldn’t listen to more. Not that, not knowing that it was only a passing curiosity. “We can’t, Kira,” he spat. He shot up from the couch and began patrolling the short space between the kitchen doorway and the far wall. It was easier than sitting in one spot, preparing for the worst.

“Why not? What’s stopping us if we both want this?” she asked.

“Because we _don’t_ both want it.”

Kira looked incredulous at first, and then offended, and finally it seemed she understood—or she thought she did, anyway. Damar braced himself for the explosion he knew was coming. “You’ve already admitted that you do, so that could only mean that you think I don’t. And you’re wrong,” she told him matter-of-factly.

Damar shook his head. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Now you’re telling me how I feel? I don’t think I like that, Damar. You don’t get to tell me what’s in my head.”

“It isn’t that. I remember how you reacted when you learned who Nelara’s parents were—and you had every right to,” he quickly added when he heard her draw in a sharp breath. He shook his head. “No, it’s not for us. I’ve come to accept that.”

But the anger he had been expecting, braced for from the moment she asked him that damning question, simply wasn’t there. “This is something you’ve been thinking about for a while, isn’t it?” she asked more gently than he felt the situation called for.

He couldn’t bring himself to answer. It felt like a betrayal of every desire he had willingly forfeited. After all he had done, all the pain he had caused, the very _least_ he could do was learn to live with his disappointment.

She was quiet for a few minutes, and Damar stopped his furious pacing the next time he came to the wide glass door that led outside from the back of the house. He hated that door. It seemed like an enormous security oversight, but Kira insisted that Earth was safe. Kren would have insisted they remove it anyway.

“Damar.”

Without thinking he turned around to look at her. She was smiling again. Why the hell was she smiling? “I wish you would stop that,” he muttered, turning back to the glass.

“The alternative is a lot less friendly.” He heard her get up from the couch, and a moment later her hands were sliding around his upper arm, and she was leaning against his shoulder. It was dark outside, and impossible to see much beyond their shared reflection in the glass. Damar knew he could speak up, command the household computer to change the opacity. For some reason he didn’t care to examine too closely, he remained silent.

“I know why you’re worried,” Kira began, interrupting the cascade of self-doubts and concerns inside his head. “I could hold it against you, but I’m not going to. I think you’re worried for my sake.” Lifting her head from his shoulder, she pulled him around to face her. “And that’s nice of you, but I never asked for it, and I certainly don’t want it. Do you think I want you to be miserable?” She reached up with one hand and cupped the side of his face. Her palm was warm, and Damar instinctively leaned into her touch. “Do you think we would be where we are if I hadn’t accepted _what_ we are?”

Another wave of shame came over him, this time for an entirely different reason. He wanted what she was offering, desperately, but there was one more looming specter that he couldn’t shake. Not even her soothing words would do for that.

Kira seemed to sense what was holding him back still. Her smile faded, and she withdrew her hand. “I know it’s not just me. I know you’re… Maybe you feel like you don’t deserve it because of your past. I don’t know what to say to that,” she admitted, shrugging helplessly. “But I don’t think it’s a good reason not to even consider it. Do you?”

“I think you would be better off not asking me.”

“Well, I have to. It would be a little difficult to do this without you,” Kira pointed out, and Damar could hear the smirk in her voice that she clearly wasn’t trying to hide. He frowned and looked down at her. “We have all night to talk about it,” she added, nudging him gently with the side of her hand. “And all of tomorrow, and the day after that, if you want.”

That small flicker of hope was back, and Damar fought hard to ignore it. The patience Kira was showing him, the understanding, left him feeling off-balance. He hadn’t been prepared for any of this. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. “We may be here for a while,” he said.

Kira nodded. She took his hand in hers and tugged him back over to the couch. “That’s okay,” she said. “We’ll take as much time as you need.”


	3. A Little Bird

Kira sat back, surveying the chaos that had once been her living room. In their excitement, Damar and Miles had turned it into something like a workshop, complete with tools abandoned haphazardly on every available surface. It was clear neither one of them had considered how she would navigate the debris field they’d left in their wake. She certainly wasn’t going to pick up after them; according to Damar, setting up the baby’s room was, _“Both his responsibility and his pleasure,”_ and so the cleanup could be his job, too. Especially since, now a little over four months along, she was finding it increasingly uncomfortable to bend over.

Instead of worrying more about the mess, Kira kicked a hyperspanner from the end of the couch—briefly wondering _why_ they needed a hyperspanner just to decorate an infant’s nursery, and whether or not it should worry her that they felt they did—and stretched out with a long, bone-weary sigh. At that very same moment the chime sounded for the front door.

Sighing again for an entirely different reason, Kira pushed herself up from the couch with a quiet grunt. She made her way into the front room, bracing a hand against the small of her back as she tapped the button to open the door with the back of her hand. It remained there, frozen in place, hovering over the small panel as she stared in shocked silence. Even the reflex to draw a breath seemed to have halted halfway to her lungs.

“Odo,” she whispered.

Odo—or some version of him, something _like_ her Odo had been, once upon a time—stood waiting on her doorstep, hands held at his sides as he smiled at her from behind eyes creased with signs of age he shouldn’t possess. All the details she had come to expect wouldn’t be there were suddenly so present and jarringly obvious that she found them distracting. Her gaze flicked from his too-perfect ears, to the creases of his cheeks where his lips were lifted at the corners, to the wisps of hair that hung loose around his forehead. He appeared so much like he had all those years ago, when he wasn’t really himself, but a temporally displaced version of Odo who had been thrown two hundred years into the past. The one who had broken her Odo’s silence and admitted that he loved her.

“Nerys,” he said, his familiar, gravelly voice full of affection. He stepped forward, arms open to reach for her, but when his eyes tracked down he too stopped in place. “You’re—”

“Bigger,” she finished for him. After an uncomfortable moment she shuffled back and said, “Come in, please.” It was perhaps more breathless and panicked than she had hoped, but if he noticed, he didn’t remark on it.

Still reeling from the shock, she led him into the kitchen. “Your home is… lovely,” he said. It sounded forced, stiff. Nothing like his initial greeting at the front door. For Odo, that subtle shift might as well have been a shout in a silent room.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling more awkward than she could ever remember feeling before. “I don’t suppose you want something to drink?” she asked.

He waved a hand to refuse her offer. “Many things have changed, as you’ve probably noticed, but I’m afraid that isn’t one of them.”

Kira nodded. A thousand questions tumbled through her head. What was he doing there? Did anyone know he was on Earth? Was something wrong? How did he know where to find her? Her panic must have been obvious because the next thing she knew Odo's hands were up.

“Nerys, please,” he said, “I didn’t mean to cause you so much discomfort. I can leave if you want.”

“No—” she blurted out, reaching to take his arm. “It’s just—I never expected—”

“To see me again?” Odo chuckled softly and stepped away, taking a seat by the table. “There was some debate over sending another one of us to Earth. Someone… Well, someone who _wasn’t_ me. But in the end it was decided that Starfleet would probably be more comfortable with a familiar face.” He reached up to wipe a hand over the mock-stubble on his chin. “Familiar enough, anyway.”

The mention of Starfleet was what put the pieces together for her. “You’re here for the Founder.”

“Here to link with her, yes,” Odo said. “She’s in stasis most of the time, but she has to be revived now and then so that the doctors can confirm she's healthy.”

Kira nodded. “And being separated from the Link—”

“Still takes its toll,” he finished for her.

Of course. That was why she had sought Odo’s company on the station in the first place, wasn’t it? Because he was the only other Changeling in the Alpha Quadrant. That was what she had claimed, at least. “How did you know I was here on Earth?”

“My first stop was the station,” he said.

“It wasn’t what you expected, was it?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not at all. I didn’t know… I hadn’t heard about Bajor joining the Federation—or Captain Sisko’s return, for that matter. I suppose I should have expected both. But it makes sense that they chose you to represent Bajor on the Federation Council. Now they’ll have no choice but to listen to you.”

It was Kira’s turn to laugh. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “Hundreds of member worlds, all with their own agendas, and their own ideas about parts of the Federation some of them have never even seen? There are days I wonder just who thought this was a good idea.” She cocked her head thoughtfully and then added, “But I have to admit, it is comforting to know I’m not just shouting at a wall all the time. And Earth is nice.”

“It must be, especially if you’re going to raise your family here,” Odo agreed. “Unless the O’Briens…”

“No,” she said, more than a little amused by the idea, “it’s mine.” Her smile faded and she cleared her throat. “Ours.”

Odo dropped his gaze to the floor. He huffed a small laugh. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t envy him,” he admitted.

That word— _him—_ made Kira’s heart leap into her throat. Did he know? If he hadn’t even known about Bajor, about her move to Earth, could he possibly know about Damar? Would he think she had betrayed him somehow? “Odo, there’s something I need to tell you,” she started to say, but he lifted a hand to stop her before she could continue.

“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” he said. “ _I_ left, remember? It would be wrong to expect you not to live your life, to move on, and to fall in love.” He stood again and came over to grasp her hands between his. The warmth of his touch and the genuine love in his eyes made her chest feel hollow. She thought maybe it was guilt, or even remorse for what might have been. “Your life is here. Mine is with the Link. We can’t change that. It’s enough just to know that you’re happy. Are you happy, Nerys?”

The pain of holding back what was threatening to become tears made her draw in a sharp, shaky breath, but she managed it, and nodded quickly. “I am,” she insisted.

“He’s a good man?”

That question. It would always be the question that stopped her, that pulled her back to all the times she had questioned herself, her choices, and now the life she was building with Damar. Once she had very firmly and confidently said no, he _wasn’t_ a good man, though she knew that he was trying to become one. No—and later with a _but_ to justify her feelings.

Things were different now, and like Odo, they had all changed with time.

“Yes,” she said, as confidently as she had once claimed the opposite. “He’s a good man.” _Now_.

Odo visibly relaxed. That seemed to satisfy him. “Then I won’t overstay my welcome. No—don’t argue, Nerys. I left your life once, I don’t belong in it anymore.” He gave her hands another gentle squeeze and smiled warmly. “You deserve this happiness,” he said.

His hands slipped from hers, and without waiting to be shown the way out, he left the kitchen, disappearing back the way he had come. Kira heard the front door open, and then it hissed shut again. The silence felt like a roaring wave in her ears.

In time it subsided, and she gradually became aware of someone else in the room with her.

“How long were you listening?” she asked.

Damar cleared his throat. “Not very long,” he said. There was a slight quaver to his voice, so subtle she could barely detect it.

He must have been around the corner. “You came in through the back door?”

“I was with Miles. We were looking over wall covering patterns.” _For the baby’s room,_ he didn’t say, though he might as well have.

Her thoughts of Odo and the sadness she had seen come over him were pushed aside by what she realized Damar must have felt; what he must have feared he might overhear when he discovered that it was Odo standing there. “Damar,” she began, turning around.

“Whatever you’re going to say—”

“I will _always_ love him,” she spoke firmly over his objection. The look he gave her was almost as heartbreaking as Odo’s had been. She quickly reached for him, pulling him to her and into as much of an embrace as she could manage in her current state. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she insisted.

Damar nodded, swallowed hard, and she felt some of the tension drain from him. “I thought—”

“You need to stop thinking so much. Stick to what you’re good at.”

He smirked, and his hands slipped down to cup her abdomen. “Well…”

“Like,” she said, stepping back out of his reach. “Cleaning up the mess you and Miles made in the living room. Should I be worried that your plans include the need for complex engineering tools?”

Damar ordered himself a cup of red leaf tea from the replicator, took a sip, and shuddered at what was obviously the unpleasant taste of it. “I would explain,” he said, taking another sip anyway.

“But then I’d probably tell you not to do whatever it is you’re doing.”

He smiled into the cup. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a number of tools to return to the O’Briens,” he said, wisely choosing to retreat.

Kira rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Damar swept out of the kitchen and disappeared to possibly (but probably not) do what he said he would do. His cup of tea stayed behind, cooling on the counter. She picked it up and returned it to the replicator, then reached around to rub the small of her back for a few seconds, before finally following him out of the room.

A moment later the household computer sensed that they were gone, and dimmed the lights accordingly. The panel on the replicator went dark, and from the windowsill, a small bird neither of them had noticed watched the empty room for just a few seconds more, before it flitted away and disappeared into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concludes this set of short stories. I recently announced [on my blog](http://sedesla.tumblr.com/post/179629016523/fic-writing-stuffmore-i-know-i-dont-need-to) that I'll be taking a brief hiatus from my DS9 series, but I wanted to make sure I noted it here, too. I expect to be back to work on it by some time around Christmas.


End file.
